


Too Late To Walk Away

by cristianoronaldo



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FBI agents and angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late To Walk Away

**Author's Note:**

> They're supposed to be FBI agents, but this is probably really inaccurate.   
> **this is all fake, etc, etc.

I. 

 

He didn’t smash a heart for fun. He didn’t mean to stare down the innocence looking back at him and rip it away. He hadn’t meant to take it as far as he did. He only wanted a moment, a moment and an eternity with the beauty that ravished him body and soul, but moments of eternity are hard to come by, and so he came like a thief in the night to steal it away. 

 

Cesc was sitting across from Iker in that light blue shirt that made his eyes look less like Torment. They were going over some papers for the case when Iker caught Cesc staring. He was just trying to read, and then Cesc was open-mouthed and red in the cheeks and staring like he’d never seen Iker before. The child-like wonder was flattering. 

 

“Something you want, Fabregas?” 

 

Cesc laughed under his breath. He looked away. “Just the case to be solved, sir. That and nothing else.” 

 

“That and nothing else,” Iker repeated quietly. He looked up, raised his eyebrow teasingly. “I’m sure.” 

 

Cesc reddened at once and returned to his coffee. He always slurped it, and when he inevitably spilled it all over his hands, he licked it away noisily, wincing each time he burned his tongue on the liquid that seemed to impact no other part of his body. 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked after a little while. His arms still bumped the gun at his side. His eyes still went wide when Iker flashed his badge. He always took a moment to formulate the important questions. 

 

“That’s not supposed to mean anything, Cesc. Drink your coffee so we can get going. We have to drive two hours before we actually reach the bank.” 

 

“The bank?” 

 

“Yeah, weren’t you reading?” 

 

“No, I was--” 

 

“Staring,” Iker finished for him with a smug grin. “You’re excused just this once,” he added quickly as Cesc opened his mouth to apologize. 

 

“I wasn’t staring,” Cesc said quietly after the check came. “Staring,” he said again. “I wasn’t.” 

 

“Am I not something worth staring at?” Cesc was too young and naive to realize the grin on Iker’s lips wasn’t meant to be encouraging. 

 

Cesc blushed. “No, you are.” And that was his first mistake. 

 

II. 

 

They were still working the bank case. The suspect was tall, male, blue eyes. Handsome and convincing and good enough at playing dumb to avoid getting caught so far. Iker could hardly remember the details of the case later on, but he remembered that smiling, clever face in the blurry photograph, and he remembered it perfectly. 

 

“So who is this guy and what exactly do we want with him?” 

 

“I thought I told you to read the file before getting to work this morning.” Iker frowned, and Cesc immediately shifted in the passenger seat. He pouted with his arms over his chest. He didn’t prop his feet up like he normally did. 

 

“You did. I forgot.” Cesc stared at him sorrowfully, his eyes wide and pleading for Iker’s forgiveness. He always did that, always turned the tiniest thing into a guilt trip. Iker couldn’t be mad at him for a second, couldn’t reprimand him over one single thing without the puppy dog eyes and the pout returning. 

 

“Mhm.” 

 

“I spilled my cereal,” Cesc said, like that explained everything. “All over my shirt.” 

 

“Of course you did.” 

 

Cesc frowned again. He bit his lip like he was trying to figure out whether to be offended or not. “I think that was rude.” 

 

Iker smiled, and he muttered something under his breath that Cesc couldn’t understand. It was a game to Iker, all just teasing touches and mocking reminders to get back to work, but to Cesc it was everything. It was his whole world, and the badge he carried every day only meant something because Iker made it mean something. 

 

Iker could see Cesc watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Read,” he said curtly. “Finish before we get there or you’re off the case.” 

 

Cesc read it aloud the rest of the way, and Iker put his headphones in. 

 

III. 

 

Cesc got his hand stuck on the yellow caution tape, and that’s where Iker found him, wrestling with the long yellow snake. He was biting his lip and trying to maneuver his way out without ripping anything. Someone walked over to help him, but Cesc slipped out just in time, holding his hand up proudly. 

 

Iker shoved the suspect in the back of the car, shooting Cesc a dirty look. 

 

“Who’s that?” Cesc asked cluelessly, peering into the back of the vehicle like he’d never seen handcuffs before. 

 

“Our guy.” 

 

Cesc blinked. “Our what guy?” 

 

“Dear god,” Iker muttered. He got into the driver’s seat, slammed his door, shouted at Cesc to get in before he drove off without him. 

 

Cesc opened the door, slipped inside. He put his hands in his lap. “Our what guy? Our bank guy?” 

 

“Shut up. Yes. But shut up.” 

 

Cesc played with his own pair of handcuffs, chattering to the man in the backseat the entire way. “Have you tried the berry pie at the diner down the street? Did you go there after you robbed the bank? Because, man, if I robbed a bank, the first place I would go is that diner to buy some of that pie-- jesus, you have to try that pie-- did you mention you tried it?”

 

And on and on and on until Iker slammed on the brakes at a red light. “Cesc,” he said tersely. It wasn’t a game anymore, but Cesc still wanted to play. He wouldn’t shut up, just kept chattering, finally pulling out his phone to show the suspect the new game he’d downloaded that morning. 

 

“Special Agent Fabregas,” he snapped finally, and Cesc shut up, blinked, looked over. 

 

His phone disappeared, and his body went stiff like a board. He touched his handcuffs, his gun, his earpiece, like he was making sure they were all still there, like somehow the anger in Iker’s voice could make them all disappear. “Yes, sir?” 

 

“Please refrain from speaking to the suspect unless I instruct you otherwise.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

Iker felt a pang of guilt. “And fix your collar.” 

 

+ 

 

IV. 

 

They were eating dinner later, and Iker kicked Cesc’s leg under the table. “You’re a pain in the ass to work with.” 

 

Cesc grinned so hard his eyes shone. “I know I am. That’s why you love me, right?” 

 

“Yes,” Iker said, and Cesc smiled harder. 

 

V. 

 

Neither of them were drunk, but they stumbled through Cesc’s apartment like they were. Iker knocked over a pile of clothes, stumbled over the sweaters and jackets and pants all rolled up into one jumbled mess. He fell flat on his back on Cesc’s bed. 

 

He smiled, tugged off his shirt, laughed and said something about how the universe was giving them a sign. 

 

Cesc didn’t smile. He looked down at Iker thoughtfully and seriously, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. He bit it hard before he stepped forward, pulling at the buttons on his shirt. His shirt fell open, and there was a scar there, and Iker traced it until Cesc was breathless. That was the point, really, to take his breath away. 

 

In the morning, the breathlessness disappeared, and the sheets were a mess. Iker woke up first. He let himself out, didn’t bother leaving a note. Not because he figured he’d talk to Cesc later, but because he didn’t mind leaving Cesc sleeping while he escaped. He didn’t mind escape. He didn’t mind running from the innocence he had corrupted. 

 

Later, when Cesc sidled up to him at work, he said, “Hey, you disappeared this morning. I was going to get us breakfast.” 

 

Iker laughed. He played with his stapler until something to fix popped up on his computer. “Do you buy all your one night stands breakfast?” He slapped Cesc on the back like it was all meant to be a joke. 

 

Cesc hated it when people said something hurtful and played it off like a joke, but he wasn’t the type to shy away from the awkwardness. He didn’t mind saying “it’s not fucking funny to me” and listening to the person complain about how he couldn’t just take a joke. But it was Iker, so. He didn’t say anything. 

 

It went on like that for ages. Cesc would walk up to Iker in the morning, praying that things would be different, praying that he could see what he once saw. He was just lying to himself before, when he thought Iker might be interested, but the lie hurt a lot less, and he wanted it back. 

 

But things were never different, and Iker never felt. 

 

VI. 

 

It wasn’t until April that Iker met someone new. He brought David around the office from time to time. Sometimes David picked him up. Sometimes Cesc walked by and saw them kissing in the car. He never looked for longer than a second, but it was long enough to burn the image into his mind, commit it to memory and feel it slowly killing him. 

 

“So you’re really into this guy, yeah?” 

 

Iker looked up from the file cabinet. His hand hovered over the stack of papers. “Yeah,” he said finally. 

 

“Love him?” Cesc was playing with his handcuffs again, thinking about requesting a new partner. 

 

“Yeah,” Iker said again, much faster this time. 

 

“I’m glad,” Cesc replied. He set his cuffs down and went back to arranging the files for Iker to pick up. He left off somewhere in the Gs. He got a paper cut from Gould, Charlotte B. 

 

“Glad?” Iker scoffed. “Really? Is that pouting every single day what you call glad?” 

 

Cesc normally had a temper, and Iker knew that. Sometimes people goaded him and Cesc launched his small body and Iker would have to step in between them or hold him back or try and calm things down some other way. Cesc could be a little rocket of rage, and Iker expected the same anger to emanate from him at the mention of his months of moping. 

 

He just blinked. “I am glad, Iker. You’re cruel to me. I don’t want you to look in the mirror and think of yourself as a cruel person. You’re cruel to me and you don’t deserve to hate yourself. I’m glad you’re with him because he makes you a good person, and I’m just a game.” 

 

Iker opened his mouth to speak, and Cesc waited, but no sound came out. Cesc dropped the file. The Gs could wait. He let the door close gently behind him. 

 

VII. 

 

Cesc was supposed to be wearing a vest, but he wasn’t because he was an absolute idiot (at least that’s what Iker said in his unofficial report to their boss). Someone fired without warning. There was a cry, a panicked, bloody scream, and Iker came running. 

 

Cesc was on the ground, and Iker knelt beside him looking for blood, put his hands on his chest and yelled at him to point at where it hurt. Iker was panicked, eyes wet and shiny, and Cesc could feel his heartbeat racing. 

 

He shoved Iker off impatiently and sat up. “I’m not shot, dumbass. I’m fine.” Iker was still grabbing his shoulder, shaking him. “I’m fine,” he said again, but this time it felt like a lie. “Iker, I’m fine. They missed and someone yelled.” 

 

Iker froze, ran his hands over Cesc’s chest once more as if to be absolutely certain there wasn’t something he missed. He shut his eyes for the briefest of moments, and then it all passed. He opened his eyes and the concern fell from his features. 

 

“I’m writing you up for not wearing a vest,” he snapped. 

 

“Whatever, Special Agent Casillas.” Cesc stalked off with a scowl. 

 

~ 

 

Their boss was staring down at them, and he adjusted his glasses impatiently, waiting for one of them to speak. “Fabregas,” he boomed. He always boomed. He only had one volume. And one tie apparently. He’d been wearing the same blue and brown checkered one for a week at the very least. 

 

“Fabregas,” he boomed again, then, “Casillas. You’re two of my best agents. You’re smart, you work fast, you work well together. You catch me my guys and you don’t complicate things. You know how to do your fucking job. I trust you. I trust that you are adults handling your jobs maturely.” 

 

There was a long pause, and Cesc squirmed in his chair. 

 

“So you can probably imagine my surprise when I see the two of you arguing like a bunch of pre-pubescent boys.” He sat down behind his desk threateningly. “So I am going to ask you once. Only once. Can you or can you not continue working together?” 

 

 _No_ , Cesc thought. _No we can’t. I loved him, and he played me, and I still love him._

 

“Yes,” said Iker without looking over. 

 

“Fabregas, can you or can you not continue working with Special Agent Casillas?” 

 

Cesc hesitated. Then, “I can.” 

 


End file.
